


TSSM Day 24

by MaybeDefinitely404



Series: Soulmate September [20]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Blood, M/M, Mugging, Near Death Experiences, Stabbing, Violence, but he doesn't die, i couldnt do that, im not a monster, okay, storm mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28880016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaybeDefinitely404/pseuds/MaybeDefinitely404
Summary: When you meet your soulmate for the first time, you get a brief flash-forward of your future.Roman's dying; he can tell that much. He's unable to call out, hidden from view, and convinced that no one will find him. Until, that is, a very panicked voice calls to him from the street.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Series: Soulmate September [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116602
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	TSSM Day 24

**Author's Note:**

> (This has a bit of an ambiguous ending, but it's meant to be happy!)
> 
> Word Count: 3.3k

Roman hadn’t been knocked down by the first hit. It had stunned him, sure, but when faced with a fight or flight response, his instinct was to hit back, and hit hard. So even with his eyes throbbing in his skull and a drop of blood trailing down his neck, he spun around to the attacker and swung, elbow cracking neatly against his nose. 

The man was surprised, and for a second Roman thought he had the advantage. Until, that is, he recalled that a surprised person is a dangerous one. By that point, it was too late though, and his hands were already fumbling at the knife sticking out of his stomach. Why couldn’t he just have gone down easily?

The attacker must have pushed him farther into the alley he had sprung from, was Roman’s only thought, as he lay deadly still on the dirty New York concrete, his only sensation being the sickly warm pool of blood spreading out under him. It soaked through his shirt, an uncomfortable feeling that definitely shouldn’t be the worst thing about this situation, but he’d gone numb. He knew distantly that that was a bad thing, that the pain had started fading until it was as dim as the world around him had become, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was dying. And that really should have alarmed him more. It was so peaceful, though, the way the streetlights blurred and shifted, the steady thrum of bass from a nearby building, his own shallow breathing.

As it was shown in every story, in all the movies, he kept waiting for his life to flash before his eyes. There were things he’d gladly see one more time; annoyed tiffs with his brother, building their treehouse, his mom planting a big kiss on his cheek on his first day of senior year. His college drama group, and their stupid shenanigans. Late night rehearsals at his first signed theatre company. Strangely, the closer he got to complete silence, the more annoyed he was that he couldn’t see it all one last time. Is that really so much to ask?

And then, all of the sudden, it was there. It was like settling into your seat in the movie theatre just as it began, reclining in a big chair and just watching it go by. However, his addled mind took far too long to realize this wasn’t in fact, his life. Or, anything he’d lived so far, that is. 

He saw a man standing before him, just barely shorter than him, with a reluctant grin on his face and a blush rising in his cheeks. The guy wasn’t anyone he knew, though; he’d remember such a gorgeous face. Their hands were softly intertwined as they stood on the roof of a building, outlined by the stars and a distant flickering of a candle. Then the scene changed. 

…

The man was sitting on the floor, hunched into the corner of a bedroom that Roman didn’t recognize. Like in a dream, he had no control over his actions as he lunged forward, dropping to his knees in front of his shaking form. He asked something, the exact words contorting in his brain until they were unintelligible mumbles, and the man nodded. In experienced movements, he wrapped his arms around his shoulders, running a hand through his hair and reminding him to breathe, that he’s okay. He felt a sense of protectiveness he hadn’t felt in a long time, pulling the curled up figure onto his lap until his breathing returned to normal. 

…

He was on the stage, a pretty typical place for him to be, but tonight it was different. The butterflies were absolutely nuts in his stomach, and he kept scanning the audience directly after songs, in those brief seconds of pure raging applause where he could just admire the crowd. Finally, he spotted what he was looking for; a lone person sitting near the front, grinning at him like he was a puppy and it was Christmas morning. The single expression on his face was one of pure admiration, and it somehow made the butterflies both completely dissolve and increase tenfold. 

…

Now they were in a park, walking side by side. His focus was carefully set on the path before them, focus switching between the gorgeous red leaves in the trees and the winding path. He recognized the park vaguely, as if he’d been there many times, and was mentally mapping out the best trail for them to go to. He wanted them to stop at the turtle pond, he knew that much. There was a pull on Roman’s arm and he looked down, heart melting at the wide grin the young girl between them was flashing. They were both holding one of her hands for balance as she toddled along, and apparently she’d tugged on both their hands, because they were both looking at her now.

“Swing me!” She giggled, using their support to keep her from falling as she lifted her feet off the ground, hopping in her best impression of a kangaroo. And how could they say no to that (they couldn’t), so they gave into her wishes, tightening their grips and counting down. On one, they both swung her forward and she exploded into shrieking laughter, not stopping until her feet were firmly on the ground once more.

“Again, again!”

…

She was older now, probably just starting school. They were in the same park as before, not that Roman could see much of it from his intense focus on the little girl, but he just knew. Her tongue was stuck out in concentration as she readjusted her elbow pads and helmet before they were perfect, and he gently held the back of her shirt as she shuffled her feet onto the pedals of the small bike. They lapped around the playground twice as she grew more confident, pedaling by herself, before Roman let go and she took off by herself.

“Dad, Papa, look! Look!” 

They both laughed quietly as she continued to shout in joy, riding her bike for the first time. The other man laid his head in Roman’s shoulder, and he felt as though his heart would burst.

…

Dropping her off at college was the hardest thing the two of them had ever done. Unlike every annoyed college student stereotype, she hugged them tightly and tried not to cry, promising to call every day. Roman didn’t even pretend to try and stop the tears that trailed down his cheeks as the other man drove them back home, rubbing his hand soothingly. 

“She’ll be okay.”

He couldn’t make out his own response, but he didn’t have to to know that it was positive. The man smiled lightly, pressing his hand to his lips and kissing it softly. 

…

It was early Sunday morning cuddles and three AM cookie batches. It was falling asleep on the couch after cliche rom coms wrapped in fuzzy blankets and pressed together like they couldn’t get enough of each other. It was electrifying first kisses and dreamy first dates and terrifying proposals and never ending bickering, but it always ended in giggling fits and kisses where they couldn’t stop smiling. It was holding the other as a storm raged outside, the thunder making him shake, and it was spontaneous lunch dates with their daughter. It was everything Roman wanted.

…

And everything he’d never have. 

As the visions faded, the world seemed just a tad clearer, and all the harsher. The knife in his stomach began to burn, white hot pain, as bad as when he’d first been stabbed. Every bone in his body screamed in agony, now the blood under him cooling and causing chills to spread through him. To his left, where the entrance to the alley was, there was some shuffling and a bright light burned through his eyelids, nearly making him flinch. He didn’t quite have the energy for that, though.

“Holy shit!”

—————————————————

Not often did Virgil walk downtown after it was dark, but when he did, he followed his own set of rules to a tee. Head down, peripheral vision on high alert, keys clutched between his fingers in his pocket. New York was hell after the sun went down, and today he had no choice but to walk the rarely trodden backroads to get home. The continuous shivers up his spine made his breath hitch, but his anxiety had gotten to the point where he couldn’t tell if it was an actual sixth sense warning or his brain deciding to panic out of sheer boredom. 

As he did when walking past every even subtly suspicious dark alley, he kept his head down but searched the abyss with his eyes, ever vigilant for oncoming attackers. He’d envisioned every possible bad scenario, every mugging and kidnapping possibility down to the minute details. What he hadn’t expected, however, was the sudden barrage of unrelated images that flooded across his vision, like a chopped up movie that he had no control over. 

He was looking up at a guy, maybe the handsomest he’d ever seen. His auburn hair glinted in the light of the candles set around the edge of the building, a nervous smile on his face as he showed the amazing view to him. It was beautiful, Virgil would admit, but he felt more at home in the man’s arms, more dazzled than anything the world could show him.

…

The cold grip of a panic attack was something Virgil was all too familiar with, and in his mind’s eye he could almost feel the tightness of his chest, the adrenaline pumping through him, the dizziness that every shuddered intake of breath caused. A voice called for him, somewhere else in the house, but he was unable to answer, pressing himself further into the wall to try and ground himself on something solid. 

There was a thud and rapid footsteps, but instead of pulling away as he expected himself to do, he felt drawn to it. An almost tearfully gentle voice asked if he could be touched right now and he nodded immediately, wanting nothing more than to not feel alone as he was collapsing in on himself. He was lifted into someone’s arms and he felt instinctively that it was the same man from the first vision, cradling him and hushing him softly. A hand carded through his hair and the panic receded bit by bit, leaving him feeling absolutely exhausted but just as safe. 

…

There was a stage before him, a grand thing with an even grander set. He was caged in by people on all sides, a fact that would usually cause those little ribbons of panic to start blooming in his chest, but he was so focussed on the actors that he didn’t have the energy. One in particular stood out to him, the lead character of the show, belting out perfect melodies with pitch perfect notes and taking on his character with no flaws. After a song, when he was taking a breather during the applause and scanning the audience, their eyes locked, and his character smile turned into one of real elation. And Virgil knew, he just _knew_ , that this was a smile only he was privy to. 

…

There was a girl tugging at their hands. Virgil didn’t know her name, but he knew that he knew _her_ , if only by the way his eyes never left her. He was protective of her, watching her every clumsy little step so she didn’t fall, with the man on her other side looking ahead, choosing their paths and watching for bikers. It was like a little unspoken agreement they had, and his skyrocketing anxiety appreciated that. She caught his watchful eye with a gap toothed smile, expression suddenly alight with a smile. The other man looked down to her as she tugged on his arm. 

“Swing me!” 

So they did. 

…

He hated this, but he knew deep down, if they didn’t teach her to ride her bike now, she’d never learn. She’d already been complaining that all her friends were riding bikes already. Even still, he’d refused to be the one to teach her, not wanting to be responsible for any scratched knees or broken arms or cracked skulls or-

He was gnawing on his fingernails as she fixed her helmet and elbow pads, drawing blood in his cuticle when she finally started moving. It was more of a restrained wobble, what with the man holding her steady, but to his equal horror and excitement, she got the hang of it quickly. It was barely two laps of the playground before she broke free of his grip, with an exuberant shout. 

“Dad, Papa, look! Look!”

The man stood next to him proudly, panting slightly from the run, and Virgil smiled, resting his head on the other’s shoulder as they watched their daughter. His anxiety immediately lessened as he placed a tender kiss on Virgil’s head.

…

She grew up far too quick for either of their likings; it seemed only yesterday that they were taking their baby girl home for the first time, when in fact they were now pulling up to her first college dorm. While he was generally the anxious one of the family, his partner was definitely the dramatic one. Not in a bad way (most of the time), but it was enough to know that Virgil would definitely need to be the strong one today. It wouldn’t help anyone if all three of them broke down. He offered to drive, since the other man was too tear clogged to even see the road.

He reached over and took his hand as they pulled out of the campus, letting his thumb rub over the knuckles.

“She’ll be okay.”

“I know. She has _us_ as parents, duh. I just… miss her already.”

Virgil smiled, still keeping his stoic face on. He’d cry later. For now, in a move that was very much the other’s specialty, not his, he lifted their joined hands to his lips and kissed them. 

…

It was never ending hugs after hard days and midnight dance parties to old songs. It was learning new recipes in the kitchen and settling for take out when it all inevitably went downhill, and holding hands while brushing their teeth like they couldn’t get enough of each other. It was terrifying first kisses and nerve-wracking first dates and unforgettable proposals and never ending bickering, but it always ended in giggling fits and kisses where they couldn’t stop smiling. It was clutching onto the other as a storm raged outside, every lightning flash bringing new rounds of choked sobs (it was still scary, but for the first time in his life, he wasn’t alone), and it was dress shopping with their daughter for her first dance. It was everything Virgil wanted.

…

Everything he’d never thought he’d have. 

He blinked rapidly, his chest tightening. From all the stories he’d heard, that was definitely a soulmate vision. Meaning, he’d just seen his soulmate for the first time, but he _hadn’t_ seen anyone. 

_Had he?_

Squinting in the inky darkness, he peered down the alley he was passing. There was a lump on the ground, which _could_ be a person, but could just as easily be a garbage bag. He very much hoped it was _not_ a person, despite what that would mean for his confusing visions. He fumbled his phone out of his pocket, turning on the flashlight setting, and shone it towards the alley.

“Holy shit!” He yelped before he could stop himself, sprinting forward like his soulmate had in the vision and dropping to his knees, ignoring the way the man’s blood soaked through the legs of his jeans. “Holy shit. Holy shit. Oh god. Are you awake? Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.”

The man was still for a moment, unmoving, before he let out a low groan. His hand twitched by his side and Virgil immediately took it, social anxiety be damned. It was cold.

“Keep… I don’t know, keep breathing, okay? I’m gonna call an ambulance, just hang on. Don’t die, dude, I’m serious.” The two rings it took for the emergency operator to pick up the phone were the most tense seconds of Virgil’s life, and he almost started crying when a voice spoke from the other line.

“I need an ambulance,” He choked out, describing their location as best he could. The operator kept speaking to him, drilling in him to not touch the knife and to apply pressure around it, asking question after question, but her all-too-calm voice was too much for Virgil and he hung up. She’d already assured that an ambulance was coming, anyways. 

With shaking hands, he turned the flashlight back towards the man on the ground, apologizing when he squeezed his eyes tight at the light. His eyes were both swollen, an abundance of black and blue bruises bleeding down to his lips. He was wearing too much, and was too still, to tell if anything else was hurt on him (aside from the jarring knife, which Virgil was trying hard not to look at). Whether he was shaking from fear or pain, Virgil couldn’t identify. He apologized again, placing his phone on the ground and pushed in around the wound, trying to apply pressure without causing more damage.

His repeated apologies were unable to actually prevent any pain, though, and the moment he made significant contact, the man hissed loudly, eyes shooting wide open. 

“I’m sorry. Shit, I’m so sorry. Please don’t move,” Virgil stammered, shocked when the man actually gave a weak, blood stained smile.

“Don’ think… I could ‘f I… w’nted to,” He breathed, words slurring and breath stuttering. The rise and fall of his chest was so shallow, Virgil doubted he was getting any air at all.

“Don’t die, okay dude? It’s gonna look real bad on me if they get here and you’re dead,” Virgil blurted, letting the tiniest smidge of sarcasm into his voice. To his surprise, the man actually gave a small snort.

“Wouldn’t… w’nt you to look… guilty.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” Virgil smiled shakily, adjusting his fingers lightly around the knife, wincing at the hiss of pain it elicited. “Sorry. What’s your name?”

“Roman,” He whispered as his eyelids began to flutter, eyes losing their brief focus.

“Hey, no no no. Look at me, Roman. My name’s Virgil.”

“V’rgil… Like that name.” Even through his increasing haziness, he was doing his best to listen to the instructions from the other man. Blinking rapidly, he tried to study the blurry face of the man above him. He could just make out his dark hair and eyes, and a faint purple shimmer across his lids. The other details were just a tan blob.

“Yeah, you’re probably the first. My mom thought it was unique, or whatever.”

“I like it.”

“I’m glad.”

“Can you stay with me?” Roman croaked, gaze flitting between the few features of the other’s face that he could see. “I don’t want to die alone.”

“You’re not going to die!” Virgil said vehemently, though his heart broke at the request. Did this guy really think he would just leave him as he was? “You can’t.”

“I’m scared,” Roman whispered, and in the dim light of the street lamps, Virgil could see the glossy tears filling his swollen eyes. 

“I know you are. I am, too. But I’m not leaving, okay? I’m staying here; I’m not leaving you alone. Stay awake for me, okay?” Virgil got a tiny nod in affirmation in response, and he shifted his hands again so he was pressing around the knife with only one. The other one was sticky with blood, but that wasn’t important, as he reached down and took Roman’s hand in his own. 

Roman kept his promise, as difficult as it was, and kept his eyes open and focused on Virgil until a flurry of sirens and flashing lights lit up the alley. 

**Author's Note:**

> (He lives, no worries! He's okay!)


End file.
